The House of Black
by Cmeownor
Summary: Sirius thought he just got scared and wanted out, but Sirius didn't know as much about his younger brother as he might have imagined. What secret tragedy turned the youngest Black from pureblood worshiper to martyr? Also discover the origins of Dumbledore's sleepless vigilance over his students. (Trigger Warning: Hate crime, homosexuality, homosexual slurs).


Ashton Holm was making music It was magical music, flowing from his wand and mind, but he thought maybe all music was magic. Hufflepuff's common room was best like this, he thought—empty. His. He was slumped in a chair on the wide balcony that ran all around the octagonal room, tan hair caught in the light, tousled robe sitting messily on him. The colors of the stone walls seemed to shift with his wandering thoughts, and the fireplace might as well have dimmed and risen with his long breaths.

He looked down at the first floor of the room—the familiar carpet with an enormous badger sewn in that was only really visible from up here, the fireplace, the old and scratched up wooden study tables, the overflowing wastebasket, the stairway that fell into the floor across from him that led down to the doorway out of Hufflepuff—his kingdom, for now.

From the lofty ledge beneath the room's largest window, now filled with fading autumnal sunlight from the windows above him, he shaped the air. His mind waded in vibrations and harmonies, shifting from mordant symphonic scapes to cold crystalline structures like snow swirling into the room, punctuated by great beats of some unholy drum that drove all onward with recklessness. And behind these dissonant forces were beautiful themes of startling humanity, hidden, almost ashamed of their own nature.

Next to him, sitting on the floor against several gold pillows and a rumpled, voluminous blanket, sat a witch. She did not move, staring blankly into the room as if she could see the sound, and perhaps also his heart. A state of perfect nothingness arrested the room.

As the light died, a slow march took over the music, struggling on until a minor cadence brought the air to an almost-hopeless chord that hung for a lifetime, floating like motes of dust in an empty sunlit hall. Ashton's companion, Elena, dared not break the silence, but he had no such restraints.

"Imagine you're the Horsehead Nebula," he said, "This ancient cloud of dust hanging a lifetime away. D'you see that spot in the carpet, just a bit in front of the ledge, where there's a little tussle of fabric poking up? Inside of that curl, maybe a centimeter down, there is a ball of dust. A tiny world. On that ball is every part of every story, every story you know, and every story that died untold in a…a warring tribe in the Philippines, a broken family on Easter Island, or a lost couple in the Bronx."

Her eyes had not moved since the music stopped, and they did not as she spoke now.

"And somehow, your story was still special. Music is a story, you know. Everything is a story."

And she meant it—she loved watching his thoughts appear in his sprawling chords, reflecting her own worries, and she wanted to repay the favor in some small way—but he did not smile, as she had hoped. Elena stood up, reaching down to pull Ashton to his feet.

"Also," she said, "I don't have a clue what most of those places are. And honestly…Horsehead Nebula?" She snorted, the word sounding misshapen on her tongue, "The names you all come up with."

At this he actually did laugh, "Purebloods…you know there's a whole world out there, right? Some of it might surprise you."

She pulled him to the thin stairway that spiraled down to the ground level, "Yes, I know, muggles are geniuses and we're all missing out. You're such a Hufflepuff, wanting us to like everybody."

As they reached the bottom, their friend Thomas came into the commons.

"How was dinner?" Elena asked as he came up to them.

"I think the house-elves must have had a party last night and cooked everything hung over," he said. While he was speaking, David Finch-Fletchley and his friend Laura Abbott, two third years, came into the commons, ignoring them as they passed.

Thomas muttered "I heard he tried to get Professor Dumbledore into a row yesterday. Apparently he still thinks he's entitled to playing quidditch on account of his dad."

"Hardly worth the Hufflepuff name," Thomas said quietly as David sat down.

"Everyone is worth the Hufflepuff name, Thomas", Elena said.

Ashton scowled at this, but Elena didn't notice. He had an entirely different reason for hating David. David knew his secret.

Suddenly, the Hufflepuff common room was unbearable.

"I'm going to bed," he said abruptly.

Elena turned, "But it's only just sunset! Don't you have a Transfiguration NEWT practice essay due tomorrow?"

"It took me ten minutes to integrate the Korsakov Charm with the function for indirect matter infusion. I'll be fine finishing it in the morning."

He ascended the stairs to the dormitories with his lie hanging in his ears and her eyes on his back like a suspicious mother. His step quickened once he was out of sight, going upward until he reached the little archway that led to the seventh years' beds.

The room was blessedly empty, so Ashton didn't even have to go through the pretense of lying down. Instead, he pulled out his wand and directed it at his bed. A few seconds later, the sounds of breathing came from the sheets, and a form appeared beneath the blankets. A decoy. No one would know he had gone. He drew the curtains on his bed, walked quickly to the low window that opened up onto the grass at the foot of the castle walls. He had it open and was halfway through when the door to the seventh year quarters slammed open.

His wand spun toward the door and the word "Obliviate" was on his lips before he recognized Elena.

"What the fuck?" he demanded, frightened at his own reaction as much as by her appearance, "What are you doing?"

"Ash…are you going again? You have to be careful! Please, it's dangerous!" Seeing distance in his eyes, she pushed on, trying to get through, "Ash, David knows! How long before he tells someone…a Slytherin? Any one of them would…they could…"

But she stopped, because at this accusation, Ashton's face had turned to stone. Before she could stop him, he was through the window, slamming it behind him. She stood, shocked, and watched the Disillusionment Charm wash over him as he ran. _I've tried for so long…but I can't protect him._

Ashton ran until he reached the edge of the forest, only a short distance from the window of his escape, feeling freer with every step away from the castle that had promised him so much, but had betrayed his eleven-year-old's wide-eyed hope.

At the edge of the forest, he slowed to a fast walk. In the growing darkness, he found the secret path he had followed many times, taking it as fast as he dared. He watched for the slightest sign of movement, desperate. On and on, as it grew darker and colder, he searched. At last he reached a familiar place. A shadow shifted on the other side of a tree.

The shadow turned…and became a tall boy in a long cloak, showing green and silver at the edges. In a second, the shadow had wrapped its arms around Ashton.

"She said…she told me," Ashton was crying before he could stop, "she said…She's the only person who knows about you and she still can't understand!"

A breath, and then Ashton buried his head in the taller boy's chest, "Reg, take me somewhere far away! We have magic, we can live wherever we want—we don't have to hide like this. I would…I would go with you if we left tonight."

Reg held him tightly, speaking softly, "Ash, Ash, slow down. Where would we go? My family would never take us. What did Elena say?"

"Not to come. And that any…any Slytherin would…hate us for this."

Reg looked confused.

"She doesn't know what house you're from," he explained. "I couldn't listen to it."

Reg wrapped his arms a little tighter around Ash.

"Ash, she's right. The rest of them—you don't know what they might do."

"But…its not because you're Slytherins!" Ash lifted his head up, "Muggles hate each other for the most…the most horrible reasons…and I thought that here…it would be better."

"Ash, you've lived with them for seven years. It's the way it is. And maybe the Slytherins don't deserve your faith," he said sadly.

Ashton looked up and spoke in a small, honest voice; "But…they _can't _all be bad, Reg, they just _can't._"

"I live with them every day. I hear them when they make jokes, and I pretend to laugh with them. I grew up with them. I…" he began, but Ashton cut him off.

"But Reg, what if some of them are like you? What if they're just going along with it like you are, because they're afraid? We could find them! We could—"

"So next time Rosier tells me he'd like to "break that faggot Thomson's leg next quidditch match" I should tell him off? You don't…you just…"

"'I' what? You act like its you that has to bear all the fear from this. It's not easy for me, either!"

"Ash, your hope, your faith in these people is…I want to believe you. But it's different for me than for you. What we are—me loving you-it's _worse _here than in the muggle world. To them it's a waste of magical blood! My parents! If you knew..."

"Yeah, the _horrible _Slytherins! Who knows what they might do?"

Reg stepped back from Ash.

"You don't…you don't understand this war." he closed his eyes. "They could kill me in my sleep."

"They wouldn't! They'd be expelled, or arrested, or… They wouldn't dare!"

"You don't know them!" Reg was suddenly shouting. "They don't give a fuck! Their fathers are murderers and they don't give a fuck! So don't you tell me what those bastards wouldn't dare!"

Ash stepped towards him.

"Reg," he said in a small voice, "please don't…don't be mad at me."

"Mad? You think I'm mad at you? I'm scared for you! You would be next! If they find us it will be my fault. I kissed you, that day in the Room of Requirement, I asked you to come in and help me with some charms."

Ash smiled at this; "You didn't need any help with charms."

Reg looked surprised by the change in tone. Ashton could always surprise him. He had hope like rivers of gold beneath grey mountains.

"I…", Reg said.

"Put me to sleep, please," Ashton said quietly, "I don't feel certain of anything."

Reg nodded, swallowing. He waved his wand over their heads. The air shimmered as it created a warmer pocket in the October night. Another flick, and a quilt fell softly onto them. Ash nestled down into the blanket.

"Come on, Regulus," laughed Avery, "Show us you've at least got _some_ balls."

Regulus' mind snapped back from the night before to the table he was wishing he wasn't sitting at, a table piled with coins, cards, and drinks, and ringed with Slytherins. It was his turn to bet. He looked at his cards for the first time.

"Where the fuck does he go, you wonder? Staring at nothing like that, get him killed someday."

The insults were nothing special, these boys treated everyone the same, but he still felt his pulse rising against his will. Regulus pushed every coin in front of him into the center of the table. It wasn't much—he hadn't been paying attention enough to win anything—but they just wanted to laugh at him anyways. He leaned back, acting, showing them what they wanted to see. Once he had not been acting at this table. Ashton had changed him.

Another card turned onto the table. Regulus glanced at his cards again in surprise—he suddenly had a winning hand. A minute later, he was several galleons richer. Once he would have made some comment that would have had them all laughing, but now it was all he could do not to scowl at them. He let their conversation flow past him, trying not to drift too far away again.

"Have you done Potions yet?"

"Load of garbage."

"Can't wait till I'm out of this place."

"Can't wait till I can help _him."_

The last comment came in a quiet voice that brought a hush to the table, although the Slytherin common room still held a buzz of talk around them and the ever-present hum of the low fountains in the back wall. Everyone looked at Rosier, who had spoken last.

"What," he said, "We can't talk about him? We're all his, aren't we?"

"Most of _them_ aren't," said Avery, nodding at the rest of the room.

"So what? They'll be with us eventually."

The conversation changed again, but one phrase hung in Regulus' head, like an accusing headline.

_We're all his, aren't we?_

The skin of his left forearm felt like a brand, a badge of sin hidden from the eye by a simple charm, but never hidden from his mind for long.

_Who am I? _he wondered, _I can never be one of them again. _Sorted into

Slytherin, raised by the Blacks, prideful hatred had been his birthright, his cradle, his world. Then Ashton had shown him.

A muggleborn, a _boy. _How had it happened? A strange friendship begun by a boy hearing music from an empty classroom and daring to investigate. A friendship transformed when two boys collided, wandering alone after equally miserable Yule Balls.A mysterious room that had opened its doors to them, and a kiss…a heart-stopping kiss that brought down the walls of Regulus' diseased world as if the stones were dry dirt in a flood. Purifying…necessary…but leaving nothing, a wasted land once owned by bastions and strongholds. But Regulus had discovered it to be fertile, and Ashton's soul had planted a forest in him. How could anyone have escaped those walls without this love that had found him, against all odds? It took his breath away.

_But that's not true, _something whispered in his mind.

_Sirius escaped. _

Here was the great source of his shame. Regulus had wondered if he could confess his repentance to his brother, and he had lain awake many times at the thought. But he could not face the haughty look that was sure to repay his trust, could not see those eyes laugh at him. Sometimes he wanted that punishment, that shame, so deeply, but Sirius had laughed at him too many times to trust him now.

He looked up again at the Slytherin faces around him. _There is something in me now that sets me against them forever. _He realized he was losing at cards again. He didn't care. With Ashton's smile in his heart, he played their game, knowing that he was playing for far more than gold.

Ashton was kissing Regulus, just a black shape on the forest floor, just another strange, secret story passing beneath the ancient leaves that had seen so much life come and go. Regulus was always surprised at how Ashton was so shy in words, but so bold with his love. He forgot the castle behind him, forgot even which direction it lay in, forgot everything except the body that was under him, and the feeling of being in a plane beyond words.

"Ash," Regulus whispered.

"Yes?"

"I hate it here. I wish there were no Houses."

"I know", Ashton began, "I just want us to be people. Nothing else."

"Is there _anyone_ who could still see _us_ both as people?"

Ashton tucked his head into Regulus' shoulder, "I know there is. I'm one. And so are you. We just have to find a few more."

Silence.

"Reg…I want you to come away with me."

Regulus felt his throat turn to stone. The answer that he so longed to give was trapped inside, and all he could feel was the mark that circled his arm. The mark that would ensure that he could never escape. The mark that, at this moment, was concealed by a charm because the boy in his arms had no inkling that he had ever fallen so far.

"I…Ash…," the words were breathless, barely forming on his lips, "Not now. Please, just hold me."

"Wake up." Avery's voice.

Rough shaking. Regulus came out of his sleep to see three dark silhouettes in the otherwise empty Slytherin Seventh Year dormitory.

"Get up! We've got something good planned for tonight. Why are you asleep anyway? You a baby now? It's nine o'clock." Rosier, this time.

Regulus was asleep because he was planning to leave in an hour for the forest. He didn't want to go anywhere with these boys.

"Didn't you hear me, idiot?" Avery said, "We're going out for some fun. And you're coming. Lately we've been thinking maybe you aren't so enthusiastic about that little drawing on your arm. And we want to make sure you remember what it means. It'll be fun."

A blow to his shoulder made him flinch. Regulus closed his eyes. Then he sat up. _I hate them...Ash, ask me again to leave with you, please, just one more time. _

"All right, all right, fuck off and let me get dressed."

"What, are you shy, little boy? Hurry up then." Bellatrix laughed over her shoulder as she left. _Her most of all, I hate…the one I thought I loved, _he thought viciously, pulling on a robe. _All the world is a toy to her, and I was just another. _

He stood, closing his eyes for a last moment of peace, hoping that Ashton would understand why he missed tonight's meeting. He opened the door.

"There we go. Come on, we're going hunting," Avery said.

"For what?"

"It's a surprise, but you'll see soon enough. Just making Hogwarts a little safer for the pure of blood," Rosier said.

Bellatrix laughed, "You'll love it, sweetie."

They four of them vanished into the halls of Hogwarts, climbing up from the dungeons. _Ashton is right, _thought Regulus, _Of course we're split…the very building wants us all to be alone. _As they walked, Bellatrix and Avery stayed at the front, Bellatrix' stride hungry and prowling, whileRosier hung back with Regulus, keeping watch for Apollyon Pringle, the caretaker. They cut a lurid contrast, these hunters hungry for hate and violence, but afraid of detention. Detention brought Dumbledore's eye.

"We're leaving the castle?" Regulus asked as they grew closer to the front door.

"And more than that," Bellatrix laughed back at him.

A charm from Bellatrix, and they were out the gates and on the lawn under a half moon and endless stars. Out of the oppressive castle, they spoke more freely. Regulus thought of Ashton, waiting out here in the dark. _They don't know about him…don't worry…worry about yourself right now._

"So Regulus. We hope you enjoy tonight. The Dark Lord needs only those who want to support his grand—"

"Shut up, Avery," said Bellatrix, "The Dark Lord will take anyone who will do what he says. Will you do what he says?"

"What," said Regulus, "does he say tonight?"

"He says to kill. He says he wants a student dead," Rosier grinned.

Again, Bellatrix cut across him, "Are you sure you didn't just make this up to get into a fight, Rosier? It wouldn't be the first time."

He looked slightly uneasy, but tried to reply confidently, "You want to ask him? I don't think he'd care much either way."

"You know nothing, Rosier, but you are so cute when you get angry, so I'll wait and see what happens."

Rosier turned and walked away from the castle, Avery following him.

"Bellatrix," Regulus began, "What are we doing?"

She smiled, speaking conspiratorially.

"Avery overheard this Hufflepuff brat this morning. Turns out there's a boy in Hufflepuff who sneaks out all the time to sleep with a mysterious boy in the forest."

Regulus' heart stopped beating.

"Avery wanted to teach the kid a lesson, so we put a tracer charm on him."

She turned to follow the other two boys.

Regulus watched her go. He couldn't feel anything. His whole mind was standing still. No thoughts crossed it, or began to form. He became aware of the wand in his hand first, and his first complete thought was a spell, and a motion that would send it at Bellatrix' retreating back.

She turned, sensing that he wasn't following. Somehow, instinct saved him, and he lurched forward so she would see him following.

"What's the matter, love?"

_Don't call me that, _his mind demanded from within its numbness.

"I…I've just never killed anyone before," someone else spoke through his mouth, protecting him, while his mind hid.

She laughed, and whispered in his ear, her body close at his side, "Don't worry, love, I'll help you."

They passed under the forest's black embrace.

Bellatrix caught them up to Rosier and Avery before Regulus realized what was happening, and then he was outnumbered again. His wand shook slightly.

_I could…I could get Avery or Rosier before they saw…but…_

But Bellatrix. She was ten times more skilled than Regulus, she would see him bringing his wand around, she would know, and no one would be there to protect Ash. Maybe…Two on three? He hung onto this thought. If only he knew whether it was Rosier or Avery who had done the tracer charm…he could kill one of them…but if he was wrong.

This path had always filled him with anticipation, his stomach tingling as he drew closer to Ashton. Tonight, the feeling was horrifyingly similar. This time, the anticipation was underscored by a bottomless drop, a pit of hard horror that hung beneath that familiar tingling—perverting it. He hated them for that perversion.

Five minutes, then ten, and then he was sure it would be soon.

_ I'm sorry Ashton._

Avery stopped so suddenly that Regulus almost ran into him.

"He's just beyond this ridge," whispered Avery, "But I think…our Regulus should go first."

Rosier grinned.

"Make us proud."

His face blank, Regulus searched for a way to turn this to his advantage. But another problem presented itself…Ashton would call out to him, would give him away, if he didn't realize what was happening immediately.

That stranger in his mind, the hard Slytherin that the sorting hat must have seen and known, spoke again, saving him from the silence that was stretching on.

"Do you want me to kill him immediately or would you like bits to play with?"

_Did I say that? Is that a part of me?_

A horrifying thought struck him suddenly.

_He could give me away to them! Then we really would be lost. They'll be too close behind me._

"Bits would be nice."

He looked up at the ridge, ideas forming. _How can I stop him from shouting? If I silence him it will be suspicious. _

A solution occurred. It filled his chest with lead and his mind recoiled.

Maybe there was a better way, but if he did nothing, they would both be dead.

_Maybe that would be better…what would I stay for?_

In his mind, an image surfaced of Kreacher appearing just months ago, sopping wet and weeping, in 12 Grimmauld Place. A story of Voldemort, of a cold cave.

_I would stay for that. For justice. For that moment. And for this one._

He crested the hill, his heart breaking, desperate to hear Ashton cry out his name one more time, but also desperate to reach him before he could make that cry.

The back of his mind tried to send a silent apology and a lifetime of unspoken love to Ashton, while the stranger in him thought a single, silent word.

_Obliviate!_

The nonverbal spell was the hardest he had ever cast. It required him to think of all the memories that Ashton must lose, when all of those memories were the very ones making the spell so hard to cast, making it so hard to keep breathing.

An infinite second, where recognition turned to confusion, and then fear. Suddenly Regulus was nothing to him. Just a Slytherin.

_I'm so sorry, Ash. If we survive, I'll remove the spell…Dumbledore can do such things, _he thought with a wild, desperate conviction._ If only he were here…I don't know how to do this, Ash._

Regulus saw that Ash's wand was out, a complication he had not foreseen.

He simply couldn't raise his own wand to defend himself.

Green and silver light flashed from over his shoulder, and Ashton's wand went flying, even as he crumpled back to the ground.

Bellatrix had come, and Rosier and Avery were following her over the ridge, their cruel faces lit by their spells. They surrounded Ashton, kicking him, laughing, and spitting on him.

Bellatrix waved them off, suddenly.

"Enough!" she cried, "Who were you meeting?"

Ashton shrank from her, and the silence stretched. Regulus heard leaves rustle behind him, but the three hunters were intent on their prey, and he did not dare look away from them.

"Meeting?" Ash's quiet voice made Regulus's hand tighten painfully on his wand.

"Yeah, faggot," said Rosier impatiently, "Meeting. We know you were meeting another one of your kind, you mudblood queer."

"I don't…what am I doing here? I…" He coughed, blood at the corner of his mouth. His eyes flickered to Regulus, but they carried nothing but fear. That glance, full of Ashton's contempt, never left his mind. _What have I done? I should have let us die! At least we would have died together!_

The infant Death Eaters were dubious of Ashton's words, but his shaking voice did not belong to a frightened Death Eater. Bellatrix cast a suspicious glance at Regulus, but her curiosity was cut short. She may have been working things out, but Rosier was far too impatient for such thoughts.

"Avery, what is this shit?" he broke in, "Who did you bring us to?"

"So it's my fault? I know what I heard. Go yell at that Elena idiot, she's where I heard it."

_Elena? _Confusion scratched the surface of the steady wave of panic advancing on Regulus.

"Be quiet," Bellatrix cut in, "Something is strange. He's here, isn't he?"

She knelt by Ash's head, thinking.

"Why _are_ you here?" she said, mostly to herself.

"Why do we care?" Rosier burst in, "We don't get both, but so what? We can't let him go, so we kill him."

He raised his wand.

"_Avada Kedavra."_

But it was not Rosier's voice.

Green light rushed from Regulus to Rosier, lighting Regulus' determined face and catching Rosier with his arm raised. He fell dead, shock not even showing on his face yet.

Bellatrix turned, an incredulous, delighted smile on her face.

"What's this?" she breathed, enthralled by the surprise, "You show your bravery now. Are you working for the other side? Doubtful, you aren't that smart. But what…"

She breathed out suddenly, satisfied.

"_You_ were meeting him."

Avery laughed. Bellatrix ignored him, still kneeling at Ashton's head. She looked down at his glazed eyes.

"And you! You made him forget you! This…This is priceless. You will both die tonight."

"No more will die tonight."

The new voice boomed with focused anger from the forest around them, coming from all directions.

Regulus watched Dumbledore enter the clearing, his beard and spectacles reflecting in the moonlight, wand held delicately before him. But he wasn't fast enough.

With a flash and a crack, Bellatrix vanished, followed by Avery.

Regulus ran to Ashton, but he was caught by a spell that immobilized him below the neck.

"Why are you here, Regulus?"

"I…They made me come…I…"

"Relax, Regulus. I do not want to hurt you. Was it true what they said?"

Silence.

"Regulus, whatever your love for this boy may have caused, I assure you that my love for another man caused far worse damage to this world. Do not be ashamed."

The words passed by Regulus unheard.

"Please, let me go to him," he gasped.

The spell was released, and he fell to the dirt at Ashton's feet. His hands went to Ashton's shoulders, and found a warm wetness that made him recoil in sudden terror.

"No, no, Ashton, please, no!"

Regulus heard Dumbledore gasp sharply, and his wand quickly illuminated the clearing, showing a horrible wound in Ashton's neck. A silver knife lay beside him, drowning in blood. How many times had he seen Bellatrix toy with that silver knife?

Dumbledore was at Ashton's side, kneeling and muttering.

But the muttering ceased quickly. Dumbledore closed his eyes.

"Regulus, forgive me," the old Transfiguration Professor's voice sounded nothing like it did when he lectured so confidently. "I did not expect such a weapon. I was watching her wand. He is dead." _I will never make that mistake again_, the Professor's eyes shone with anger and sadness. "Forgive me."

Regulus backed away, unable to look away, but unwilling to stay at this horrible scene.

His brain searched for a way out of this trap—any way, any topic besides this one.

"How did you find us?"

"I…have been watching those three…and you. I did not know you had left the castle, through my own inattention, but I have charms placed in the forest. I knew the moment the first spell was cast. But I will be faster in the future. What will you do now, Regulus? I can offer you protection."

"You can't protect me from him."

"We will try harder than anyone else."

"If I hide, then Ashton died for nothing."

"And, if you do nothing, so will you. Come and fight. For him. I have spent my life building a world where kind, brave people like Ashton could stand freely."

"I will fight. But I don't need your help."

"We have information."

"You don't know everything," Regulus said flatly.

Dumbledore's gaze pierced him sharply.

"What do you know, Regulus?"

"It doesn't matter. I will not fail."

"Wait! Do not throw away your life!"

"Give him a proper burial. Please."

Silence. Dumbledore sat alone on the leaves.

_I must be better. I must protect these children. _

Regulus materialized in his bedroom, feet sinking into the carpet. The wall of clippings he had collected about Voldemort hung tauntingly before his eyes, a monument to his foolishness. But foolishness was too kind a word for what he had ruined. A silver and green locket, a gift from his parents, sat on his desk. He picked it up and held it so tightly it cut his skin. Suddenly the immensity of what he held dampened his racing thoughts like cold water.

_Think, _he told himself. _Don't ruin this with recklessness. _He took a long breath, steadying his mind.

_I am about to die._

A flick of his wand brought a piece of paper flying towards him, and in seconds he had written a short note. The crooked ink-strokes of his clenched hand betrayed his attempt at calm. He corrected them with a wave of his wand. He wanted Voldemort to see a determined and collected opponent. That was all the Dark Lord recognized.

"Kreacher!" he yelled. The room was making him sick. Everything in him was hard, hard as the lump in his throat, unyielding as his thoughts, repeating the same mantra repeatedly beneath the layer of calm. Repeating an answer ungiven, and now poured in a thousand times.

_Yes._

Come away with me.

_Yes._

_I'm coming now. _

_But I don't know where we're going._

A crack.

"Yes, Master? How can Kreacher serve you?"

"I'm going away."


End file.
